I think I might hurt myself or someone or everyone if I don't get on here right away! Geez. You stay away and then the bug bites ya good to get back to it. I certainly have no time to be here. I think that's why I like it so much. And don't.

Am I the only one trying to figure myself out? I know that answer's no. I do realize I spent a good deal of life figuring life out through others and coming up frustrated. Life like trudging through Katrina waters. Or watching it from a hospital bed and feeling hormonal in general and ripped up because I told my doctor that my husband was not there to see the birth of his third, due to his appointment with detox. Which situation would those surveyed prefer? Anyway, I know that about myself--that I thought uphill--thanks to loving my husband's goods, bads, and worses.

I also know that god, tried again, doesn't cut it for me. God is too Christian. I can't help it. God is referred to as "him." Others can't help it. God is something I can and want to talk about too much and therefore can't grasp. Western thought isn't I am God or god is in me, which lies. The only thing I appreciate about the concept is the addition to my husband's original sun tattoo received in a halfway house bathroom and not disclosed to me until I noticed it weeks after he came home. Over the sun says "you," under it says "god." I'm a taoist. Buddhism taught me how to meditate, but taoism made it so I don't have to.

I ran the usual route the other day and didn't open my mouth to breath. I wasn't there. I saw the tiny disposable flower pot left lying on someone's front lawn, and I remember liking it. Then the empty two-liter on the lawn a few houses later that I didn't like. At one point, on the busy street, I entertained the thought that I look like a gem in a crusty town and should be given free Nikes to advertise while running. I also solved all the world's problems with a sweeping thought: e x e r c i s e. It's on and it's off.

I am loving my new browser's spellcheck! Spellcheck is not a word I guess. I wish it told me when and when not to use a comma.

All my shorts are too big. Even the ones bought in Atlantic City, 1997, with my ex-boyfriend make me feel like I look fat. Not good. Not bad. But surprising. I had no idea. That's all I get at work too is how skinny I am. I own no scale. No full-length mirror. It's difficult to gauge it when scrapping old bottoms for new. It's what I always wanted. Of course, the devil DID take my boobs in the deal. There's me, there's my friend M's girlfriend's new fake boobs, and there's C's wife's new reduced size boobs. My used boobs look like the orange peel texture I didn't know how to spray on my bathroom walls. And my bra is from the girl's department at WalMart (I don't do foam in the cup but maybe I should start).

I am loving the #1 Ladies Detective Agency. It happened when I saw the first one on the New York Times Bestseller List I never read and stood staring at it at the thrift store a few days later. Couldn't help myself. Dave Eggers was there too, but I just don't know. I bought the next three for shipping costs on Amazon. I keep reading Fromm's essay Mature Love over and over again though. Precious Ramotswe waits. And it feels fantastic to have something to so look forward to.

Aaron is painting again. Wonderful stuff. It's hanging everywhere. He's amazing to watch. Just blows me away and leaves me speechless. I'm lucky is all.

He did get his hours changed on account of my bitching and whacked out hormones for a time and a reason I had taken care of, and his job is a dream job. It's full of good stress and ice cream, pinatas, massages, his own extension, health bennies, shared itunes, and free bagels and Chipotle.

I'm finished with the 12-step crowd for now. I stopped going when he was working late, and never looked back. So many of them were finding the need to tell me the Tuesday night meeting wasn't working, when it was all I knew and I thought it did work. It was all too much talking, the whole 12-step thing for wives. It was a priceless boost of an experience that I took, used, and forgot. It was Christian anyhow. People said Jesus a lot.

And finally, I found that the smile is the remedy to all things. It heals. It also looks pretty and earns more tips at work.